The Shot Not Taken
by wingedflower
Summary: It takes one moment of hesitation from Lance during battle to nearly cost him his life. But even after his physical wound has healed, it takes much longer for his soul to recover as he reflects on his role as a paladin and the consequences of war.


**After several fluffy and light-hearted fics, here's a buttload of angst again. Enjoy! :P**

 **Warnings: head injury (nothing graphic though) and some PTSD resulting from it. Also, I didn't make a final edit to this for reasons, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.**

-x-

Lance took a steadying breath as he fixed his grip on the handle of his bayard, which was currently the shape of a sniper rifle. He had been lying on his stomach for who knows how long now, and even for an experienced gunman like him – the cool, ninja sharpshooter, he thought to himself smugly – this position was far from comfortable and he nearly forgot what it was like to _not_ have a constant pain in his neck and shoulder blades. But he couldn't move from this position, not yet; not until he was sure the battle was won.

Their mission for today was to liberate the capital city of planet Eranon, which was considered a strategical asset to the Galra despite being smaller than Earth's moon thanks to its vast oil fields. Although the Galra had countless drilling sights scattered across the planet, the capital city was Eranon's nerve center; liberate it, liberate the entire planet. Easy-peasy. Or maybe not so easy, as the city was an endless maze of shapeless buildings and winding alleys, creating an architectural chaos not even the most sophisticated urban warfare simulation the castle had to offer could compete. Their lions were useless in this environment – assuming they didn't want to crush half of the city in the process, of course.

And that was exactly where the blue paladin entered the picture. While his friends were operating deep in the streets of the city, Lance was perched on top of one of the tallest buildings with his sniper rifle, ready to take down any enemy they couldn't see from below and clear the path to the Galra's headquarters. He couldn't lie – his stomach _had_ knotted anxiously when he first grasped the huge responsibility this role required; but his determination not to disappoint his friends and protect them at all costs was enough to push this anxiety away for the time being, and he barely allowed himself to blink as he spent the last couple of vargas scanning the streets beneath him, taking down a Galra soldier from time to time with astounding precision (and yes, he definitely did an internal victory dance when Allura praised him after he hit not one, but _two_ nasty-looking soldiers who were about to close on her from two opposite directions).

He was just about to risk a quick glance at the sky in search of enemy ships (Pidge had messed with the Galra's signal so they wouldn't be able to call for back-up, but he could never be careful enough, especially when he was totally exposed sprawled on the roof like that) when a red blip appeared on the screen of his bayard. He focused his eyes on it and his breath was instantly caught in his throat.

There he was, standing right in the middle of a small square, his head framed almost perfectly by the sight of Lance's rifle; General Ashuk, the Galran commander responsible for Eranon and practically acting as its president. They all had his picture memorized before they went down there, but Lance was pretty sure he could recognize him even without this information: just look for the biggest, ugliest Galran officer with the most scars on his face plus a huge, bright-yellow optic replacing one of his eyes (similar to the one Sendak had worn; was that a _thing_ among particularly evil Galra or what? Some signature whose only purpose was to scream "I'm a villain, don't mess with me"?).

Lance flexed his finger around the bayard's trigger, trying to contain the excitement bubbling in him. This was it. The most powerful man on Eranon, more or less equal in his importance to the head of Voltron. And right now Lance had a clean shot on him, no obstacles whatsoever to block his way. If he took that shot, the battle would be pretty much over. After all, once you cut off the head, the rest of the body breaks apart on his own.

He had zero time to waste. Any moment now Ashuk could move and disappear behind a wall and Lance would lose his chance, possibly for good. He sucked in one last breath before closing his left eye, finger already bending to pull the trigger.

Suddenly Ashuk raised one arm and tossed something over his shoulder. Lance nearly dropped his bayard when he realized what it was – _who_ it was.

It was a female Erani, no older than a teenager for all Lance could see, who seemed to be unconscious as she dangled completely still from Ashuk's grip, her eyes closed and mouth slack. Lance had no idea when and where Ashuk had managed to capture her – and she was clearly his hostage, there was no way she would have gone willingly with the monster who'd enslaved her entire planet, hence her unconscious state - but his stomach flipped at the thought of _what_ he was going to do with her exactly. No, he couldn't let him get away with her. He had to finish him off _now._

But… she was so closed to his head, her back blocking nearly half of his face. Lance couldn't stop the hand clutching the trigger from shaking, fingers sweating under his armor glove. What if he missed? Yes, he had a clean shot, but his target could always decide to move at the last moment; what if he hit the Erani girl instead of Ashuk? What if he did hit Ashuk, but the impact would cause the girl to fall to the floor and land right on her head? Lance gritted his teeth, trying to shake off the dark thoughts and _focus._ He only had a few seconds to act: Ashuk shook his head left and right, apparently looking for the best path to escape unnoticed. Lance couldn't help but notice he was heading at the opposite direction of the Galra's headquarters. He was sneaking away like a coward, abandoning his people to save his own skin. Lance's blood boiled when he realized just how corrupt the Galra could be.

He had to take that shot.

His finger brushed against the trigger again.

But…

What if he _missed?_

Lance swallowed thickly, mouth going dry all of a sudden. Don't think about it, he tried to tell himself. Just take the quiznackin' shot. You are the team's sharpshooter, that's your job. Your _only_ job. You might not get another chance.

But if you hit that girl instead, _she_ might not get another chance, either.

His heart was pounding in his ears to the point it actually hurt. He felt like his head was going to explode.

Do it.

Don't do it.

 _Do it._

His hand was sweating so hard his finger slipped across the trigger and he gasped in fear, thinking he accidently fired for real. But no. Ashuk was still standing tall, alive and breathing and ready to take off any moment now.

Then, he turned his face and looked straight at Lance.

Lance's first instinct was to duck and hide behind his bayard, and it took all he had to stay upright. So what if Ashuk was looking at him? There was no way he could see him; Lance was nearly a mile away, not to mention their height difference. And he _still_ didn't move from his spot; Lance could still make the shot if he only pulled the damn trigger.

Only that it turned out Ashuk _was_ able to see him, as his mouth twisted into a cruel, devilish grin that froze Lance's blood in his veins. The Galran's optic reeled and glowed and before Lance understood what was going on it fired a single, purple laser beam, aimed straight at the blue paladin.

A sharp pain exploded in Lance's right temple before he was engulfed by darkness and knew no more.

-x-

Lance's body was so heavy when he emerged out of the pod he didn't even have the energy to try and catch himself before pitching forward like a sack of potatoes. Luckily a pair of strong hands grabbed him under the armpits in time and he vaguely registered being lowered to a sitting position. Only then he realized he hadn't opened his eyes yet.

"Lance?" A familiar, concerned voice echoed in front him. Hunk. "You with us, buddy?"

Lance forced his eyes open and blinked several times, the room slowly coming into focus. Hunk was indeed crouched in front of him, but when Lance tried to turn his head and spot the rest of his friends, the room started to swirl dangerously and he groaned, closing his eyes again and swaying in his place. _Dios_ , his head _hurt._ What the hell happened to him this time?

"Lance!" Hunk called with palpable panic which only made Lance's head pound harder. He then heard quick footsteps and felt another person settling next to him. "Number Two, if I may," said Coran's voice, cool and mild as ever. "Lance, my boy, what do you feel?"

Lance carefully cracked his eyes to a silver and focused on the old advisor. He looked unusually tired, and Lance wondered just how long he had been in the pod. "Dizzy," he murmured, wincing at the hoarseness of his own voice. "Head hurts".

"Anything else? Can you move your arms and legs, please? Just for a tick."

Lance's body was still pretty numb but he did manage to flex his fingers and toes, which seemed to satisfy Coran. "Well, the dizziness and headache are to be expected considering this type of injury," he said lightly. "They shall gradually wear off in the next few quintents. I do have some medications if they get really bad, so do not hesitate to ask."

"Um… okay." Lance had no idea what 'type of injury' Coran was referring to, but he felt too wrung out to ask. "How long…" his voice trailed off.

Coran sent him an encouraging yet careful smile. "How long you were in the pod? Three quintents, my boy. Do you… remember what happened?"

Lance licked his dry lips. "Not really."

Then Allura came into view, stepping forward and kneeling next to Lance's other side (he began to wonder whether they were all going to end up on the floor because of him; the infirmary could really use some chairs).

"It was during battle on planet Eranon," she said gently. "We were all down in the city while you covered us from on top of one of the buildings. And I must say, you saved our lives countless times during that time."

Eranon? He knew that name. The planet with the oil fields. They were supposed to free it from the Galra. The capital city. He was lying on a tall roof, looking for bad guys through the sight of his bayard.

A Galra commander. He was an important person. Lance was going to take him down and put an end to this.

Only that he wasn't alone…

The Erani girl, trapped in his huge arms, draped over his shoulder like meaningless luggage.

A wicked grin, a flash of purple, a blinding pain.

And then…

Lance gasped, startling everyone around him. He scrambled backwards, shaking so hard his back audibly rattled against the pod's door.

"Whoa, Lance, it's alright," Hunk said, trying to sound soothing yet reluctant to come forward and invade Lance's personal space again. "You're alright, you're safe."

But Lance didn't listen. He raised a trembling hand to his right temple, feeling around the smooth, unscarred skin.

He was shot in the head.

He was _shot in the head._

He would have thrown up if his stomach had anything to expel after more than three days in cryofreeze.

And it was all his fault. He'd seen it coming; it would have never happened if he acted like a true paladin and took that shot, that one shot that could have ended it all.

He could have died.

"W-what…" Lance stammered. He wanted to ask what happened to General Ashuk, what happened to the girl; did they manage to save her? Did they even win the battle? Or was it all for nothing, thanks to his miserable mistake?

But he couldn't ask them that. He couldn't, because then they will know; about the true reason he was shot, about his cowardice. They will kick him off the team, say he doesn't deserve the title 'paladin'. Blue will shut him out, look for another person to fly her; a better, smarter, braver person.

Lance swallowed, trying to stop his heart from leaping through his throat. "How did you find me?" he managed to ask.

A momentary silence. "You weren't responding on the comms for a while," said a small voice. Pidge. She was standing a few steps behind Hunk, Allura and Coran, along with Shiro and Keith. She looked pale and tired, too; Lance's stomach clenched with guilt at the thought of how worried everyone must have been because of him. "We figured something was wrong, so Keith went to check on you."

Keith shifted in his place uncomfortably at the mention of his name. "I flew to that roof with my jetpack and there you were… well, you know," he glanced sideways. "I called Red to come take us to the castle. It… it was a true luck there weren't any enemy ships around."

Lance released a long breath. So far there hadn't been any mention of Ashuk, but he had to know for sure. "So… what happened afterwards?"

"The battle went on for about a varga or so," Shiro said. He sent Lance a small smile, and the tightness in the younger boy's chest loosened the slightest bit. "But in the end, we managed to reach the headquarters and shut the place down. The capital was liberated, and then all that was left was bombing the drilling sights and outposts with our lions. So yes, we won."

"Not before we got rid of General Ashuk," Allura said solemnly. "He was nearly at the gates when we caught him; tried to save his own skin, just like the pathetic coward he is." Lance flinched at the word 'coward', but the princess didn't seem to notice. "He tried to kidnap one of the Erani, but we rescued her and returned her to her family. She is safe and healthy, as well as all the other Erani."

The relief that washed over Lance was so overwhelming his knees went weak. The planet was free, his friends were fine, the Erani girl was safe; he hadn't jeopardized the mission. He hadn't ruined everything.

He only nearly got himself killed, but he guessed it was a small price to pay in exchange for an entire planet's fate.

"Lance…" Shiro spoke again, albeit hesitantly. "I know it must be hard for you to talk about this, but… we were wondering if you remember how exactly you got hurt. We're not mad or anything," he added quickly. "Of course not; we are all so happy to have you back. We just want to understand."

Lance felt another wave of nausea and fought with all his might to keep a straight face. He couldn't tell them. He _couldn't_. Not now, not ever. He was already practically useless save for his sniping skills; he couldn't let them know that apparently he sucked in that, too.

"I - I don't know," he blurted out, cheeks darkening with shame.

Shiro sighed but didn't look upset. "Very well. Just focus on resting for the next few days, okay? Take it slow. We're all here for you."

On any other occasion this statement would have warmed Lance's heart, but right now it only gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't deserve any of their support.

As if to add insult to injury, Hunk grinned at him cheerfully and said: "Piggyback ride to your room? But we'll have to clean your bed first, I kind of stuffed it with cookie bags."

"Just because there was no place on your desk with all the beauty products," Pidge said with a hint of her old sarcasm.

Lance smiled with effort, knowing it didn't reach his eyes. "Sure," he said.

-x-

The next couple of days were kind of a blur. Lance spent most of the time sleeping, his head not quite hurting thanks to the pills Coran had given him, but still somewhat heavy. The pills also did a decent job of alleviating some of the nausea that flooded him from time to time, and for that Lance was thankful, because every time he thought about what had happened he felt like throwing up.

No one had asked him again if he remembered how he got hurt and he didn't bother to bring up the subject; they all simply seemed happy that he was alive and about to make a full recovery. Coran had told him his helmet was basically what saved his life: the laser fired at him went first through the visor before hitting the side of his head, making its impact less lethal given that he was put in a pod shortly after.

It did scar though. A small, pale, barely visible mark just above his right eyebrow. He doubted anyone could see it unless squinting at his face real hard; but _he_ could see it clearly. Every time he looked at the mirror this mark was like reality striking him, a constant reminder of what he'd done.

Lance knew he should be relieved he didn't sustain any permanent damage, thrilled even, but he just couldn't find it in him. Not with all the guilt and shame festering inside him and haunting him at nights, even when he was completely knocked out from the medications.

Ashuk's sick grin played in his nightmares over and over again, twisting and blurring into a whirl of purple and yellow and _pain_ that sent Lance waking up with a scream, face wet with sweat and tears, thanking every existing god out there that the rooms in the castle had such thick walls.

Sometimes more things happened in those nightmares. Sometimes he saw his friends' bodies, thrown across the streets like broken, bloodied toys, and Ashuk standing over each body and _laughing_ like a madman – all because Lance didn't do his job. He'd failed them, and now they were dead, and the Galra won, and in a few moments he would be dead too, and he would deserve it because it was _all his fault_.

He never told anyone about his dreams. If they noticed the unusual pallor to his face when he finally emerged from his room or the bags under his eyes they never said anything, probably assuming he was just exhausted from recovering from a head injury. He did his best to put up a smile and join the conversation at breakfast and spend time with Hunk and Pidge in their lab, even though he couldn't care less about what they were doing (not that he could understand anything from their scientific babbling, anyway).

He hated himself for screwing up so bad and even more for not being able to get over it. But he kept telling himself it was best not to talk about it, to not let anyone know the truth. His mother used to tell him he shouldn't keep things to himself; but his mother was no longer here, and even if she were, even her kindest words and warmest hugs couldn't erase the fact he had nearly doomed an entire planet due to one moment of hesitation.

He had to put this behind him. He had to move on. Not only for Voltron, but for himself, too. He was a paladin, for quiznakc's sake; he couldn't hide in his room forever and wake up crying like a baby in the middle of the night. He had a universe to save.

He was going to be fine. He was in control.

This conception lasted for about a week, until Lance went a full day without any headaches or dizzy spells and Shiro offered him to come train with him and Keith. Nothing too straining – just a basic shooting simulation. Moving around will surely make him feel better, he said, and it would also be a great opportunity to get back in shape.

Having nothing better to do, Lance agreed. He _had_ been slugging around for too long; perhaps training will help keep his mind off things for a while. It had worked in the past, after all.

They set up one of the basic simulations for a long-range training: ten bots, about the size of baseball balls, floating around the room and darting in all directions. Lance had to take them all down with his bayard while avoiding getting hit himself by their (completely harmless, obviously) lasers. If he took more than two hits, he would be out and have to start over. On a normal day, Lance would finish this simulation in less than a minute without even scraping his armor.

Well, on normal days, these bots didn't turn in his mind into glowing yellow optics, attached to the face of a murderous Galra who was definitely aiming to kill _._ Kill _him._

Lance's bayard clattered to the floor before he even realized he had dropped it. He stood frozen in his place, staring right into Ashuk's eyes, cold and merciless and _knowing_ , knowing he had already won because Lance couldn't do anything, couldn't shoot him, couldn't run away, all he could do was stand there and wait for his end –

His knees buckled to the floor, mouth open in a silent scream. He couldn't breathe. His chest felt as if it was crushed, he couldn't get any air in.

Was this the way he was going to die, if not from a bullet to the head?

 _"Lance!_ "

Strong arms grabbed his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Lance! Can you hear me?"

This wasn't Ashuk. This was someone that he knew. Shiro? What was he doing here?

Lance tried to warn him, tell him to run away before he got hurt too; but all he managed was a wordless choking sound. His chest was burning and everything just felt _wrong._

"Hey, Lance, it's okay, breathe. Just breathe. In and out, just like that."

He distantly heard Shiro inhale and exhale in exaggeration and tried to copy him, fighting to hold onto the one thing that kept him from totally losing it. He felt his chest expanding a bit, eyes nearly tearing at the effort.

"Yes, that's it. Keep going. You're doing great."

Lance kept breathing, in and out, until the burning finally subsided and Ashuk's face disappeared from view, revealing a concerned-looking Shiro who was kneeling in front of Lance and more or less keeping him upright. A few steps behind him stood Keith, face white and one arm stretched forward as if he wanted to help but wasn't sure how.

"There you are," Shiro said gently. "You're good?"

"Y-yes." Lance coughed, still not fully grasping where he was. He looked past Keith and spotted the training bots, now deactivated and scattered across the floor of the training deck like forgotten marbles. His cheeks warmed at once when he realized what happened.

"Sorry," he murmured, fixing his gaze on the floor. "I – I didn't mean to – "

"Hey, come on," Shiro reprimanded without heat. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who – " his jaw worked. "Maybe it was too early for you to train. You only got out of the pod a few days ago, and you're still recovering. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

"Should we take him to the infirmary?" Keith asked carefully.

Guilt rose in Lance's throat like bile. Not only did his friends worry about him even though he didn't deserve it, now Shiro was blaming himself for his incompetence.

He shook Shiro's hands off his shoulders and wiped his sweaty face. "I'm fine," he said.

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Um, no, you're not."

"Wow, _thanks_ , Mullet."

"No, I mean – " Keith sighed and looked at the ceiling. "It's okay _not_ to be fine, Lance. You… you've been through stuff. _Tough_ stuff."

Now it was Lance's turn to quirk his eyebrows. He must have been a real mess if _Keith_ took pity on him.

"Keith is right," Shiro said and sent the red paladin an encouraging look before focusing on Lance again. "Look, Lance, we've all been hurt in battle here and there, but an injury like this… well, a lot of people who are way older and more experienced than you would have had a hard time recovering so fast. And I'm not just talking about physical recovery."

Lance's shoulders fell. Shiro was wrong; he had no idea what _really_ happened to Lance, otherwise he wouldn't have said what he said.

They all thought his injury was an unfortunate accident, something he wasn't able to avoid as he was lying completely exposed without anyone to cover him. They probably thought he'd been hurt in the heat of battle – that someone, perhaps another sniper or an enemy drone, came at him from above and hit him before he had any chance to respond, because he was too busy watching the other paladins' backs.

They didn't know that he _could have_ avoided it, if only he had the courage.

A large tear made its way down Lance's cheek without his consent and he quickly brushed it away, feeling more pathetic than ever. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Will you stop apologizing?" Keith barked, then flinched at his harsh tone. "I mean," he said in a softer voice, "You heard what Shiro said. You don't need to be feel bad for struggling. We get it."

For some reason Keith's words only made Lance want to cry harder and he fought to swallow the huge lump in his throat, turning his face away. "No you don't," he said without thinking.

"Then try us," Shiro coaxed. "Talking about this might help you feel better. And we are ready to listen."

" _No,_ " Lance moaned, hating how choked his voice sounded. God, was he really going to cry now? "You don't – I can't – " he exhaled shakily. "I messed up. I messed up _so_ bad and I – " _stop talking, what the hell are you doing, just_ stop.

"Lance, come on," Keith said, stepping forward. "You got hurt in battle; it's not like you had any control of the situation – "

"But I _did_!" Lance burst out, voice sore. "I was _completely_ in control of the situation! None of this would have happened if I just _took that damn shot!_ But I didn't! I couldn't do it, okay?! I'm weak and I'm a coward and you should probably look for a better paladin and drop me back on Earth or something!"

For a few seconds both black and red paladin simply stared at him, stunned. Then Shiro asked quietly, "What are you talking about?"

Lance's hands fisted on his knees. Well, he might as well get this over with. "I _do_ remember who shot me," he said, his voice hollow, almost robotic. "It was General Ashuk, that Galra who tried to escape the city. I saw him through my sight trying to get to the gates. At some point he stopped and I was able to get a clean shot on him.

"But then I saw…" his voice quivered. "He had a hostage. A girl. The same one you ended up rescuing. He was carrying her on his shoulder and I… I didn't know what to do. I was afraid I was going to hit _her_ instead of him. I mean, what if he moved at the last second? I couldn't take that risk. If she died because of me… I would never forgive myself, _ever._

"So I just… froze. I couldn't move. I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. And then _he_ noticed me." Lance's fingernails dug so hard into his flesh he could feel it through his glove. "He looked me right in the eye, and then he – he shotme. With his optic." he sighed, the edges of his mouth curling bitterly. "Told you it was all my fault."

The silence that hung in the air was heavy, almost suffocating, so _loud_ it made Lance's ears ring. He drooped in his place, feeling drained. This was it. The secret was out. Shiro was probably going to be disappointed at him for hiding it for so long; then he'd go and tell Allura, and she would be _furious._ Lance felt sick at the mere thought of her reaction.

After what felt like forever, Shiro asked, still in this awfully quiet tone, "And you haven't told about this to anyone until now?"

Lance blinked. "Ah, no? This isn't exactly something to be brag about."

Shiro and Keith exchanged a look Lance couldn't decipher. Then Shiro said: "I still don't understand why you're so hard on yourself about what happened."

Lance barely held himself from pulling his hair in frustration. "Isn't it obvious? Because I couldn't make a decision! I'm a paladin, I'm supposed to be able to deal with these situations! But instead, I let that asshole decide for me and almost – " he couldn't bring himself to say _'died'_.

Shiro sighed, looking older and sadder all of a sudden. "Lance, this kind of decision isn't an easy one; it is probably one of the hardest decisions you'll ever have to make as long as we're fighting this was. I can't imagine someone who _wouldn't_ have a hard time in this situation."

"Someone who is a better sniper than me wouldn't," Lance said bitterly. "A guy like that would never have to worry about missing. If my aim was – "

"Your aim is impeccable," Keith cut him off. His ears pinkened a bit at the statement, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes. "I mean it. If that guy had been standing still you would've probably hit him without blinking. The possibility of him moving at the last second has nothing to do with your aim, and you were right taking this into account."

Lance was so taken aback he didn't even try to argue. Keith, the hothead whose motto has always been "attack first, ask questions later" was praising him for hesitating before shooting? Well, _that_ was a first.

"Not only you were right," Shiro continued, shaking Lance off his momentary shock. "I'm glad you did so. I'm – I'm not glad you got hurt," his voice thickened, "But I'm glad you cared about that girl; that you didn't just fire your bayard without thinking. You didn't act like a heartless war machine," Shiro's lip wobbled slightly and he released a long breath, "like – like the Galra once tried to make _me._ " Keith rushed to his side and squeezed his shoulder, and Shiro smiled at him gratefully.

Lance felt his heart sink. He had been so busy feeling sorry for himself he hadn't even stopped to think about what his leader had been through during his year of captivity. Shiro had been tortured, enslaved and forced to fight other prisoners in the arena every day; he had had to choose between his opponents' lives and his own over and over, knowing that at the end of the day, the price had to be _someone's_ life. He had survived all of that _and_ become the black paladins, the head of Voltron, and never let his past get in the way of his leadership, not to mention having a nervous breakdown over a bunch of training bots.

Shiro shook his head. "Don't make that comparison, Lance," he said. "Please. What happened to me doesn't make your own experience less painful or less important; this isn't a competition, so _please_ don't be more hard on yourself than you already are."

Lance blushed, embarrassed that Shiro had managed to read his thoughts so easily. But there was still one more thing he had to know, even if he was terrified of the answer.

"I always thought…" Lance paused, carefully measuring his words. "I always thought my job was easier than others, being a long-range fighter and all. You – you rarely get to see your target's face before you take them down, you know? Makes it less… personal." he shivered. "But now I realize this isn't going to be like that forever and I'm just… I mean… how do you guys do it?" he regretted the question the second it left his lips, fearing he'd just crossed a line here.

But the two older boys didn't seem upset. Keith lowered his eyes to the ground, lost in thought for a moment, then murmured: "I don't like it. I do enjoy the adrenaline of battle and all, but I don't like having to kill people for _real._ Anyone who enjoys _this_ is a sick monster."

His head shot up and Lance was startled by the intensity of his gaze. "But I know it's something I _have_ to do. For my team, for the universe, for all those people who have been crushed by the Galra for too long. _This_ is why I fight. Not for fun, or for the sake of killing. And…" he shrugged. "I guess this is pretty much what keeps me sane."

"Keith…" Lance felt his eyes prickle and he wasn't even sure why. Maybe because this was probably the longest speech the red paladin has ever delivered, and Lance was touched he has made such an effort for him _._

"I would say more or less the same thing," Shiro said, his black eyes filled with warmth. "Killing is never easy, Lance, and unfortunately, I can't promise you it'll ever be. But you can also see this as a blessing, in a way: being able to keep your humanity during war is one of the hardest things to do, and it is something to be proud of, not ashamed of. _I'm_ proud of you, Lance, and I know every person on this ship would too if they'd known what you did."

The burning sensation in Lance's eyes intensified. Shiro has just said he was _proud_ of him. That had to be something, right?

Perhaps he _didn't_ completely mess up.

"I thought I was going to die."

The words hung between them, but that was it. The walls didn't collapse; the castle's alarms didn't wail; and Shiro and Keith didn't try to get away from him, didn't look at him in disgust.

The words were out there, and there was nothing in his friends' eyes other than understanding and acceptance.

He could talk about this. He could finally let got.

"I thought… I was going to die." Lance repeated in a thick voice. "I thought I'd never get to see you guys again… or-or my family… or Earth…" he hiccuped loudly, bringing a hand to his eyes even though he knew it did nothing to stop the tears.

A second later he felt strong arms wrap about him and he didn't have to open his eyes to know Shiro got there, one arm around his waist and the other bracing his head against his broad chest plate. Lance let himself bury his face in it, grateful for the hiding place.

"I didn't want to die…" he wept, trembling despite the tight embrace.

"I know," Shiro said quietly and patted Lance's hair. "None of us wants you to do that."

"Never," Lance heard Keith say and felt another hand resting against his lower back. His mouth twisted into something that might have been a smile if he wasn't practically bawling at the moment.

He didn't know how long they stayed there and let him cry until he had no tears left. But with every passing minute Lance found that he was feeling better. _Lighter._ As if all the anxiety and shame he'd bottled up over the past few days were gradually washed off him, like ocean waves sliding off a rock.

Fighting a war was not easy. It might never be, as Shiro said. But with his friends, his _family_ standing behind him, loving and supporting him and making sure to catch him if he fell, Lance knew he'd find the power to go on. They gave him a reason to fight, and as long as he had that, he could do anything.

-x-

 **It isn't a Langst fic for me if Shiro doesn't cradle him in his arms at the end (but hey, Keith was there too! That's a first! :P)**

 **I love feedback, so if you enjoyed this, please leave a review on your way out! Thank you :)**


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